Whatever's Left
by Blancwene
Summary: Assorted drabbles about Tonks, Lupin, Sirius, and others . . . some silly, some serious, some subjective.
1. Faces

**AN:** Blame it on the courses I'm taking right now, but I haven't felt like writing fanfic for some time. However, I must remedy this fact. Mer's very busy with her internship in DC, and it's fallen upon my shoulders to finish "Flirting for the Socially Inept." So to get my Muses back in gear, I've been tossing off some drabble-ish writing exercises to get back into the swing of things. For everyone who's been hoping for an update to "Flirting" - these are for y'all. --huggles readers--

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Faces**

She doesn't know her own face.

As she stands by the staircase, studying the moving pictures that line the walls, she can't help but notice this fact. A round-cheeked, black-haired baby becomes a child with large dark eyes and light brown curls – with an orange-haired firebrand stuck somewhere in-between.

The changes are more striking in the family portraits. Sometimes she resembles Mum, other times Dad; and as she traces the passage of years across the wall, a different girl begins to emerge. Shockingly bright hair, open expression, pale skin, blissful grin. A blue spiky-haired teenager waves from her Hogwarts graduation picture, winking at someone off-frame.

She raises a hand to trace that smiling face. Smiles. The only feature all those photos share – even her infant self sports a lopsided grin. Hair, eyes, nose, skin, height all differ, but that optimism stays throughout this visible chronicle of her life.

Footsteps break the silence of her thoughts, and she feels Mum's comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You have a gift," Andromeda Tonks says. "Never think that makes you any less of a person."


	2. Ennui

**Ennui**

"Dumbledore hates me."

He lowered his newspaper slowly, the hint of a frown tugging at his lips. "Why do you say that?"

Sirius flopped into a tattered armchair in the parlour, exhaling dramatically. "Because I'm about to die of boredom. 'No, Sirius, don't go out in the yard, you might be seen! I'd rather if you stopped being so mean to Kreacher – we don't know where his loyalties lie.' I'm bloody sick of being cajoled into limbo."

"Reading the dictionary again, eh?"

"Well, I don't have anything bloody else to do." Sirius rose to his feet and began pacing by the doorway, shooting bitter glances at Mrs. Black's portrait across the hall. "I'm tired of being a damn housekeeper. Less than that, really – do you know that Mad-Eye still won't let me clean out the ground floor bathroom?"

Remus sighed, returning to his reading. "There's probably a reason why. Remember that ghoul—"

"—in the third floor closet? Moony, I'm here every day. In this decaying old junk heap. And I'm not even allowed in the garden, for Merlin's sake. If something actually happened, for once . . ."

The front door slammed open, and they watched as Tonks – covered in green slime and shedding her clothes rapidly – dashed down the hallway.

"What an idiot, idiot, I'll kill him!"

_"Half-blood, freak, filth!"_

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Looks like your excitement for the day has arrived, Pads."


	3. Fashion

**Fashion**

Nymphadora Tonks nursed a long-standing hatred against skirts. After a childhood of sundresses and seven years of the dreaded Hogwarts uniform skirt, she'd had enough. A year floundering through various menial jobs taught her that pants were an essential article of clothing; so by the time she entered Auror training, Tonks did not own a single skirt. Just pants. Mostly baggy punk jeans, but some tight vintage corduroys (as well as a few pairs of nice dress slacks) also crept into her wardrobe.

Her mum tended to wince when she saw some of Tonks's ensembles. Despite her admirable traits, Andromeda was still a Black when it came to fashion. Dad didn't seem to mind – but Dad had also worn some suspiciously cheesy outfits in his past, she thought dismissively.

Yet deep within her funky heart, the skirt still held some appeal to her. She pulled her old Yule Ball gown from the depths of her wardrobe, and ran her fingers down its silky train. The sleek lines and smooth hemline - the fluid and flawless drape of tailored seams. It intrigued her. In a skirt, could the gawky Tonks gain poise and purpose?

She shook her head, and shoved the garment to the back of her closet. It would take more than a change of clothing to rid her of all clumsiness.


	4. Truths

_AN: Drunk!Sirius and unsure!Tonks memories and angst. What was I thinking? But in my defence, I shall just say that this is another writing exercise. (And it's like a quadra-drabble, being over 400 words long . . . but you don't really care, d'you?)_

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**Truths**

When Tonks finally found him, Sirius Black was rather drunk.

She hovered in the doorway of the master bedroom, hair and cheeks hot crimson, arms akimbo, eyes glitteringly bright. "Oh gods, Sirius."

Creeping forward, she dropped to her knees, clearing the empty firewhiskey bottles from her path and slowly crawling to his side. "I came as soon as I got off my shift. How did you hear?"

"Moody." He took a swig from his last full bottle and dropped his arm unsteadily. "Remus?"

"He's coming. He should be here in a few minutes."

She loosened his grip on the bottle, setting it by the mangled dresser to her right. "If you want to be alone, I can just pop back out that door," she said, leaning against his shoulder.

Silence.

Sirius let out a shuddered breath – then he reached over and pulled her closer, arms wrapping around her shoulders, chin resting on her head, chest heaving with sobs.

"I thought – was safe. Harry faced Voldemort – he survived. 'Sides, we've Dumbledore. Knew what He wanted."

Tonks snaked an arm around his back. "And she was in Azkaban."

"Yeah." He sighed. "Never worried 'bout Cissa – just follows that ferret. Malfoy. But Bella . . . s'not safe anymore. Specially for your mum. D'you remember Bella?"

"Not well. I saw her once, in Diagon Alley. Before we moved into our Muggle flat. I thought she looked pretty."

"Bella wassa bitch," he slurred. "Hated your dad. Made his life hell – Dea's too. Didn't like me – cause of Gryff'dor. Disgrace to Blacks."

He loosened his grip on her shoulders a little. "Bella liked Cissa an' Reg, tho. Not saying much. Cissa's a drowned rat. Reg'lus . . ."

She felt tears dropping on her hair, and rubbed his back soothingly. "I met Regulus once, when I was small."

"Mm?"

Tonks nodded, trying to shift into a more comfortable position. "Mum needed to ask Auntie something, so she stopped by here – brought me along too, for some reason. Auntie called me a freakish half-blood. Then she and Mum started screaming about something." She paused. "Probably about Dad and me."

"M'good old Mum," Sirius said softly.

"So I wandered out to the garden, and chased around some garden gnomes until Regulus found me. He showed me all the different flowers, then helped make daisy chains until Mum took me home. I never saw him again. But I remember he was nice, and shy."

"Reg wasn't evil. Justa fool. Silly little fool. Trusted Bella, an' died for it." He leaned down to look at her, eyes glassy and questioning. "Harry . . . ?"

She tried to smile assuringly, but it was a forced grin, her lips slowly twitching downwards into a frown. "Harry's not like Regulus, Sirius. He'll be safe. I promise."


End file.
